Slient Apologies
by doramatikku
Summary: Mitsume X Othello. You know you love it.Takes place somewhere in the third volume when Othello beats the daylights out of the bounty hunter... again. One shot complete


Title- Silence of the Apology

Fandom-The Demon Ororon (a manga by Hakase Mizuki)

Rating- PG-13

Pairing- Othello x Mistume (shounen ai)

Challenge/Time taken- Apologies; about half an hour?

Disclaimer- The Demon Ororon (or Akuma no Ororon) is a manga by Hakase Mizuki and so therefore all the characters and the world they live in are created by her, so they are hers. This is just a piece of fanfiction, no need to make some lawsuit hoot over it.

Notes- d00de, I love this pairing! This is set sometime in the third volume, and since I just glanced at it while at the bookstore, I don't think I have the details correct. First posted at tempsmorte

Blood strewn all over the walls, hurt pride and honor sliced in half by the sudden brawl. The two adversaries stood at the end of the room, across from one another, nothing more than enemies, nothing less.

On one side of the room stood the limping fifth prince Othello, his fancy suit now ripped to near shreds and he himself was caked with blood. And in his hand, he held an eye, bloodied and torn from its socket.

"Mitsume," he heaved, the pain at his side worsening from where he was stabbed. The bounty hunter lay across from him, on the floor unmoving. "You shithead."

"Just kill me now, why don't you?"

The words stung into the Prince's ears, he was unaccustomed to the harshness. After all these years of ordering around soldiers and servants, who was he, this pathetic tri-eyes, to defy his orders? Anger ran through his veins once more, the same rage that had occupied him moments before. Othello limped over, his free arm clutching to his side to keep the wound from opening further. "What did you say?"

Mitsume looked up, blood ran from where his third eye was damaged, his face full of cuts and bruises. "I said, kill me! I hate you; you spoiled Prince! What's the point of keeping me if you're gonna beat the living shit out of me anyway?!"

"You!" The prince's eyes narrowed to slits, the demon within him rising. Yet another hell was to erupt. And in a matter of seconds, all the wounds that he received didn't matter anymore; there was no pain, no blood, just a blind rage of fury. Othello grabbed the bloodied sword from the floor and raised it over the fallen bounty hunter. One; the blade was injected into Mitsume's flesh and he curled up in pain, coughing up blood yet unwilling to succumb; two; three; and with the final strike, Othello heaved towards the bleeding Mitsume, his head resting on the other's bare chest.

Blood sputtered, flowing from the fresh wounds and onto the floor.

"One more, just one more blow to end it all."

"No," Othello raised his head, watching as Mitsume smirked; the blood made his lips red, so red it was deadly and tantalizing all the same. "No!"

"One more," Mitsume's hand struggled as it tried to reach for the fallen blade, "Kill me now, and make some peace for the both of us. In the end, I'll hate you anyway, you've made sure of that."

"No! Shut up! I don't want to hear anymore of your nonsense!"

"Just one more strike,"

"Stop defying me! You are supposed to be mine; all mine! And if I say you will live, by all means, you _will_ live!" The Prince cupped his hands beneath Mitsume's mouth, forcing it to open as he thrust the eyeball into the other's mouth, forcing it down his throat until his throat was blocked.

Mitsume coughed and sputtered, his body involuntarily willed him to choke up the object lodged within his throat.

"You will me mine, even if I have to beat the living shit out of you day by day, you will be mine!"

Othello limped away, leaving Mitsume to fight his battle on the floor, coughing and sputtering. Once he had closed the door, he could still hear him, the sound of blood and saliva dripping down from his mouth, the eye's thud on the floor as Mitsume finally managed to force it out. And he was overcome with grief, full of misunderstandings and unattended desires. The Prince sat outside the door, listening to the sound of suffering within; perhaps Mitsume would really die this time? All the other times Othello had saved him before he reached his last breath.

And the Prince did something he'd rarely done before, he cried. The tears mixed with blood as it ran down his cheeks, the sudden void in his left eye felt awkward. He cried for Mitsume, for the world, for himself, and for his inability to say he was sorry.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, his voice too weak to be heard. How ironic that the words finally dislodged themselves from his throat when Mitsume wasn't able to hear it. Perhaps all of this never would have happened if he were able to tell the bounty hunter that he was sorry?


End file.
